


Demons Helped with Revolution

by Deathbymushrooms



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demon Broking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:42:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathbymushrooms/pseuds/Deathbymushrooms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras chooses an unconventional method to stage a revolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras thought the whole affair was strangely simple. He had followed the book’s instructions to the letter, coming to the beach when the moon was just so, artfully drawing the three connecting lines in the sand to form a triangle that pointed towards the ocean. Honestly, he didn’t quite understand the logistics of the process, something about how triangles were the simplest and sturdiest of all structures, and strong enough to be able to (if the right circumstances were met) trap a demon?

The tide began to come in, and the foremost point of the triangle met the saltwater. The first ocean waves reached the drawn lines in the sand — and stopped. In a moment, the whole sea was frozen, not ice, no, but completely still, every crest and trough, the greens and blues and whites, preserved as if the writhing, chaotic, nurturing mass was a fantastical picture on the wall of some god. There was silence for a moment, and then a faint humming noise began, originating from somewhere beyond the horizon. The lines of the triangle on the beach glowed, for a single breathless moment, and then the ocean resumed its ever-moving patterns, seawater cresting and crashing on the sand. But as the waves fell on the lines of the triangle, they did not retreat back to the ocean; instead they were trapped, saltwater accumulating within those three artfully drawn lines and Enjolras watched as the sea foam and ocean water coalesced and condensed before him, taking gallons and leaving only a human-shaped figure standing in the moonlight. 

The demon (for Enjolras knew that no human could have emerged from the great ocean, only Aphrodite, a goddess, or the creature from his book, a demon) straightened and its whole body seemed to shudder and move; perhaps it was accustoming itself to a shape rarely used. It reached out a hand (four fingers and a thumb, tanned skin, human at least in appearance) towards Enjolras, but the hand was stopped.

“You cannot leave the triangle,” Enjolras began, remembering the information he had read in the book. “You cannot leave until we make a deal, an exchange of one service for another.” At this, the demon moved, a fluid and careless motion, and leaned against one of the three invisible walls of the triangle trapping it, moving into the moonlight. 

And in the relief provided by the light of the moon and stars, the light of the heavens, he supposed, Enjolras saw that the devil, or at least this one, was beautiful. 

Light skin darkened by the sun (or was it by the fires of Hell, Enjolras wondered) that was granted a silver sheen in the half-light and dark hair, black as the ink derived from soot and animal glue. A lithe body, tall and defined, and perfect features, straight nose, cherry lips that parted in a mocking smile, and eyes, oh his (for yes, this demon was unclothed and unabashed and male) eyes. In his eyes, eyes that were constantly swirling, blue and silver and green, little worlds that were constantly revolving and rotating, in those eyes, Enjolras saw a fallen angel. 

“I have a request,” Enjolras began again.

The demon tilted his head and stared straight at him, and Enjolras felt those swirling worlds look at him and then through him and then beyond him, and for the first time Enjolras felt inconsequential. 

“And what do you request then, that you would be willing to summon a demon from Ether?” the demon replied, his eyes seeming to return from an inhuman enlightenment to drag themselves back to Enjolras’s face. 

“I wish for revolution and for the people to rise.”

“Do you have anything suitable in return?”

“You may have any material possessions I own.”

“I do not want for things so easily acquired and then easily given.”

A pause and then, “I will give you my life, but ten years after the revolution, so that I have enough time to rebuild a new system.”

“I have no need of your life. I cannot live it, I do not gain from taking it from you.”

“I will give you my soul, then, whenever you wish for it.”

“I would not want your soul. What use would I have with such a heavy burden?”

“Then, what do you want?” Enjolras asked, beginnings of desperation showing in the edges of his voice. “I will give anything that is mine to give.”

The demon moved forwards, so that he was standing as close to Enjolras as he could, trapped as he was in the triangle. There was silence as he studied Enjolras.

“Perhaps then, I will grant your wish and collect payment later. Did not you say you would give anything?”

“Anything that is mine to give.”

At this the demon smiled again. 

“Then the terms of the contract are so: your revolution will be a success in exchange for whatever I desire that is yours. Do you know how to seal a deal with a demon?”

“I have read that there is an exchange of blood and then an exchange of names. Correct?”

“I would rather exchange spit than blood. The effect is the same and less problematic.”

“Spit? Are you suggesting I spit into your mouth?”

“There is a pleasanter way. Step into the triangle. There is no threat; we have already laid down the terms of the contract,” the demon said. He stepped away from Enjolras and gestured towards the now vacant space.

Enjolras warily stepped into the triangle, not quite sure why he was trusting a demon. The demon stepped towards him, and entwining his arms in Enjolras’s blond curls, stole his lips in a kiss. Just as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended, leaving Enjolras startled and breathless and the demon with a grin.

“Your name?” the demon began.

“Enjolras,” he breathed.

“Grantaire. Pleasure to be doing business with you.”

-

A week later, on June 5, the French military surrendered to the small group of students calling themselves “Les Amis de l’ABC,” surprising the worldwide press. There were no casualties.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes wrong.

For a month, the revolution was a success. The people wore the tricolor with pride as their king and queen were imprisoned. The poor and the working class were fed, the sick and dying were cared for. The old shout of “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité!” was revived and there was a new feeling of hope and belief in the air. Enjolras, with the help of his lieutenants, began to devise a new state, one he hoped would survive many generations to enable the people to live in safety and happily.

It didn’t last.

It began with food running short and ended with the resurgence of the guillotine. 

Les Amis de l’ABC watched in horror as the people rose, not yearning for justice, but thirsting for blood.

No one was surprised when the mobs sentenced Enjolras and his followers to death. 

Éponine was first, her lovely dark hair shorn by the same rusted scissors that had cut Marie Antoinette’s light curls, her pale neck cut like hers too. Then it was Bossuet, who was called to his execution by a name that wasn’t his own. Next, Bahorel, for whom it took six guards to restrain, but only two to clear away. Feuilly and Joly followed, smiles on both of their faces, then Jehan, who had paused for a moment to stare at the sky before being pulled towards his death by his guards. Combeferre looked dazed without his glasses, but muttered something about metaphors before kneeling at the platform. Courfeyrac let out a single sob, but then grinned like a madman and complimented his executioner. Cosette watched as Marius died with her name on his lips, before she too, was brought to the stand. And Enjolras?

Enjolras was resplendent, fists clenched at his side as he marched towards the steps, red carmagnole blowing behind him and blazing suns in his eyes. He called his love, “Patria!” before the guards forced his head down and if his lips formed another word, (“Grantaire,” he whispered) no one saw. 

-

Grantaire watched the proceedings from amidst the audience. He took great care not to believe in anything, but at the sight of Enjolras, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of something, something more than simple interest. It had been very hard to watch these strangers be escorted to their deaths, as strange as he knew that was for a demon, but at the sight of the patriotic blond Grantaire couldn’t help but to care. It had been a long while since Grantaire had let himself care about anything.

“Grantaire.” 

Too softly spoken to be heard by any human, his name seemed almost to be a plea. Almost a prayer, a supplication. What a silly human to confuse angels with demons. 

But as he watched the blood drain from that beautiful neck, Grantaire found himself interested by Enjolras, wondering about all of his possible futures, the great things he had the potential for. 

Grantaire was interested by a human.

The crowd around him began to disperse, the day’s executions done. 

-

Grantaire took a visit to the Ether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T WORRY THERE IS A REASON THIS FIC IS NOT TAGGED WITH MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH AND COME ON, IT READS ENJOLRAS/GRANTAIRE IN THE TAGS MAN I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED SO JUST STAY WITH ME BE HAPPY AND JOYOUS AND EAT LOTS AND LOTS OF CAKE.  
> Okay, now that that's over with.  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU LEFT KUDOS OR IF YOU MESSAGED ME ON TUMBLR IT BRINGS ME UNDESCRIBABLE JOY THAT CAN REALLY ONLY BEGIN TO BE SHOWN BY USING TOO MANY CAPS TO KNOW SOMEONE LIKED THIS AND YOU ARE THE REASON IT WAS MORE THAN A ONE SHOT.  
> A third chapter is on the way. Say hi on tumblr! (aucontrairegrantaire.tumblr.com)


End file.
